The Darkest Hour
by Bianca Castafarina
Summary: Colonel Sponsz is back, and he wants not only Calculus to work for Borduria, building a weapon of mass destruction, but also to wreak revenge upon Tintin for humiliating him in The Calculus Affair. WARNINGS: rape, angst, death! DARK and DISTURBING!
1. Chapter 1

Tapiocapolis, San Theodoros. Colonel Sponsz is back, and he wants not only Calculus to work for him, building a weapon of mass destruction, but also to wreak revenge upon Tintin for humiliating him in The Calculus Affair. (Warnings: rape! Angst! Drama!) Will be M-rated later.

1.

Tintin

Marlinspike Hall, Brussels, February 15, 1974

„_You_ may be going, Captain", I told him. „I'm staying right here."

„What? What did you say?" He looked at me incredulously.

„I said I'm not going to San Theodoros, Captain. You're free to fall into the trap they're trying to set for us, but as far as I'm concerned it's NIET!"

What could this be if not a trap? I could not imagine a reason why General Tapioca had imprisoned Bianca Castafiore, except to get us to travel to San Theodoros. And why would he want us to travel there? Just because we knew General Alcazar? It was hard to believe. I hadn't been in touch with Alcazar for years, didn't even know where he lived.

The whole thing was impossible to figure out, but it reeked of trickery and treachery.

I sat on the dining room table, my typewriter in front of me, trying to continue the article I was working on. No more dangerous adventures for me. I was a reporter, after all, not a detective. And I had to earn a living. Though the Captain had offered me to reside for free at Marlinspike many times, I did not want to be dependent on him. I simply couldn't be financially dependent on anyone, it would hurt my pride. The mere fact that I already lived here (paying rent, which he reluctantly accepted) was enough for people to spread rumours anyway. Many claimed that Captain Haddock and I were lovers, which of course wasn't true, but I did not care about the talk, at least not enough to let myself be distracted by it. My focus was, as always, on my work.

I heard rustling and footsteps. Calculus and Haddock were stuffing their suitcases and carrying stuff around. For the Captain, the whole trip was mostly about clearing our names – he genuinely believed the whole thing was a mistake and that General Tapioca would let himself be convinced that there was no conspiracy because there really wasn't one. For Calculus, it was mainly about Bianca Castafiore – he only cared about getting her out of prison.

Maybe I should go with them? Suddenly I wasn't so sure whether my decision was the right one. This would be the first time ever I would abandon my friends. Would I have failed them?

Great snakes! What a dilemma.

.

.

.

Colonel Sponsz

Tapiocapolis, San Theodoros, February 16, 1974

I still couldn't believe my luck. That old sailor Haddock had just sent a telegram to announce that they would come to Tapiocapolis to talk with the General. My plan seemed to be working!

On TV, General Tapioca had played the tough guy, a macho threatening them with all kinds of curses in more or less subtle ways, but in reality he was quite upset, and – may I even dare think it? - afraid. Only to me, his trusted adviser and police chief, he showed his distress.

Of course, he genuinely believed that there was a conspiracy. How could he possibly know that I was the one pulling the strings, doing everything just to get my hands on these three busybodies?

„They're coming here, General", I said, waiting for his signal that I could sit down.

General Tapioca motioned me to sit. „Fantastic, my dear Colonel Sponsz. Those traitors! I knew they were still working with Alcazar! Tell me, have you already devised a way how we can get rid of them?"

Sometimes I wondered if the President was really that scared. It was unlikely that Tintin and his friends actually communicated with Alcazar; the guerrilla leader probably did not even have a telephone. Furthermore, everyone knew that the Picaros were incompetent drunkards and unable to accomplish even a kiosk robbery, let alone a _coup__d'état_. Tapioca himself had made sure of that, regularly supplying them with whisky.

„Well..." I began. „This is a most delicate matter. After all, they're internationally known, and Tintin is a reporter. If they simply disappear, it could bring Amnesty International and all kinds of other groups on to the scene. We must make it look like an accident."

„Get to the point!"

„We could have them killed by Picaros. Of course they would be fake Picaros. Colonel Alvarez has laid out schedules for the days of their visit – sightseeing trips to the beach, the Museum of Ethnography, the zoo, the Cathedral... and to the jungle, where a fake accident would be arranged."

„Can you guarantee that the accident will look absolutely authentic?"

„Yes, General. The international press may raise suspicions, but there will be absolutely nothing to prove them true. On the other hand, there will be every kind of proof of acts of terrorism, of Picaros gone wild. The usual. However-"

„What?"

„We will need to interrogate them first, of course."

„You know I won't have round-table talks with them, do you? That was just an excuse to bring them here! … And we already have surveillance, this should give us enough evidence of their treachery!"

By the whiskers of Kûrvi-Tasch, he was truly scared of Tintin and Alcazar and the whole gang!

„They will need to be interrogated for details. But this will stay a secret; the public won't hear anything about it. We need to hear proof from themselves. Our Bordurian interrogators are experts at this. There may be more traitors they are working together with. Alcazar has many friends around the world; what if there are even more threats to your regime? You see, this part is necessary."

The General assumed a worried expression and I knew I'd been successful, appealing to his fears.

Indeed, I needed to get those three folks into prison, first and foremost. This would be my personal revenge, the sweet, delicious revenge I was longing for. There I would be able to do whatever I wanted with them.

Maybe something _fun_. And I would focus on Tintin, that impudent, arrogant young devil who had somehow managed to steal the order of release papers for Calculus from my coat... and thus Professor Calculus and his plans for the weapon of mass destruction had escaped me. They _all_ had escaped, the whole goddamned gang. And Borduria still had no weapons. It was a humiliation I could never forget. I had severely underestimated him with his boyish, cute looks. There was – I hated to admit this to myself - a brilliant mind behind that pretty face. He was dangerous.

I would find a way to break him. Tintin would have to suffer.


	2. Chapter 2

2.

Tintin

Tapiocapolis, San Theodoros, February 19, 1974

Finally, here I was. So worried had I been about leaving my two friends to walk into the lion's den alone, that I had booked a plane flight to San Theodoros just a few days after they had left. I'd been feeling guilty – what if something were to happen to them?

I was so glad to see them again, alive and well. They had been given a nice but heavily guarded apartment, and Colonel Alvarez was keeping them busy with sightseeing tours. There was just one thing that worried me: The promised round-table talks with General Tapioca hadn't occured yet. Perhaps they had been waiting for me. They could have guessed that I'd change my mind and come here after all. Would we have a conversation now? For what other reason could they possibly keep us here? We were not a danger to Tapioca's regime and that was easy to prove.

„Why didn't you stay home, you silly fellow?" The Captain looked apprehensive.

„Let's just say I was missing you, Captain... And the professor too, of course." I flashed my trademark careless, happy smile. „So I came here, hoping we could quickly clear up this misunderstanding that put Madame Castafiore and the Thompsons into prison."

Of course I could not discuss my concerns openly here. This place was bound to be bugged. So I placed a record on the record player, the Jewel Song on full volume, and showed the Captain where I thought microphones and cameras might be hidden.

.

.

.

Colonel Sponsz

Tapiocapolis, San Theodoros, February 19, 1974

As I had predicted, Tintin had guessed correctly about the microphones and cameras. Indeed, he was a smart little devil!

Colonel Alvarez and I were watching the screens, curious about the daily routine of our captives, not really hoping to find something that could eventually be used against them. I had confided in Alvarez about the whole conspiracy that I had plotted in order to have them wiped off the earth. We did not truly need evidence; we needed only some fake evidence that could be presented to Tapioca. Alvarez had proven his loyalty to me before, and I needed his collaboration.

That Tintin was indeed a fine-looking lad. I'd always had a taste for handsome young men, but hadn't had any affairs in years. It was too risky for an officer of my status, and my work for the Bordurian government had always kept my mind focused on other things. I wondered about Tintin's age. He looked like he was 18, but according to the official documents, passport and all, he was already 25. But that was even better for I didn't like my boys too young. I was no pervert!

Sweet revenge. It would be _fun_.

Perhaps Colonel Alvarez would even collaborate with me when it came to having _fun_. But I had to be careful about this. For all his loyalty, he was a conscientious man who might become concerned if I went too far.

Alvarez was watching Haddock and Calculus playing chess. „That Captain, he's not really involved with Bianca Castafiore at all, is he?"

„Not really. But there were wedding rumours once, and it helped with the conspiracy plot: Many people think those two are in cahoots, that they're lovers. Even Tapioca thinks so."

„The plotting Italian opera singer and her Captain! A romantic notion, I see why people like it. But others think that the Captain and Tintin could be lovers."

„Why do they think that?" I was surprised.

„Well, they're two single men living together. And they're practically inseparable. Our informers said the Captain seemed to be very fond of the young Tintin."

„Do you think he's giving it to Tintin?"

Colonel Alvarez paused, probably a tad shocked at my vulgar choice of words, but he kept his pokerface and shrugged. „Well... I wouldn't know, sir." _Don't ask, don't tell._

I decided to shut up about my „interrogation" plans. If Alvarez was like most men, he wouldn't want to have _fun_ with Tintin in the same way I wanted. He would have scruples, perhaps he'd even refuse to do anything. He was the type who was squeamish even about _normal _interrogation methods, quick to call them the T word – torture – as if that meant anything! I made a mental note to keep an eye on his conscientiousness; it could be interpreted as a sign of disobedience to Tapioca some day.

I switched to another TV screen.

Ah, it was my lucky day. Tintin was in the bathroom taking a shower, the thing most people would do after a long transatlantic flight. Since the bathtub did not have shower curtains nor a mounting in the tiled wall to which the showerhead could be fastened, one had to kneel in the tub while holding the showerhead with one hand and doing the washing with the other.

Tintin was kneeling or sitting in the bathtub, naked as far as I could see – from the waist up – holding the showerhead over his head and rubbing his tired face under the running water. From what I could see on the tiny screen, he had fair and smooth skin, and reddish blonde hair, just like I had guessed from the photos I had seen. Indeed, a cute one! Too bad his prettiness didn't make me forget the grudge I held against him. My lust for revenge was as strong as ever.

Sweet revenge. Soon I would have it.


	3. Chapter 3

3.

Tintin

Tapiocapolis, San Theodoros, February 20, 1974

Today they would let us talk with General Tapioca, they had promised; so we were waiting in the fashionable apartment. Finally Colonel Alvarez entered with Pablo and an escort of heavily armed guards, as usual. It was for our safety, they always claimed, but we were essentially prisoners. I was glad we finally received the chance to meet the President himself.

„We are to bring you to Tapioca's Winter palace, gentlemen", he said. „Please follow me."

I, Snowy, Captain Haddock and Professor Calculus stepped outside the secured mansion and inside the car.

After fifteen or twenty minutes or so of driving through Tapiocapolis (the car always encircled by the armed guards on motorbikes), we approached a solid concrete building surrounded by high walls and palm trees. It certainly did not look like the home of a president, much less a palace.

The car entered through a gate guarded by heavily armed soldiers and finally stopped in a sandy courtyard surrounded by concrete walls.

To my dismay, it looked very much like a prison.

Of course, because it _was_ a prison!

I grabbed the Captain's arm. „We're in danger" I hissed. „We must get out of-"

Someone flung open the car doors, and before I could make out a possible way of escape, the whole car was surrounded by armed soldiers.

„Hands up! Out of the car!" one of them shouted at me, the Captain and Professor on the back seats. The driver and Colonel Alvarez on the front seats got out of the car.

„Get out", Colonel Alvarez ordered, pointing a gun at us. „Slowly. Keep your hands up."

I obeyed. Snowy jumped from my lap, onto the ground, too intimidated to do anything but stare at the soldiers and whimper.

„Colonel Alvarez", I demanded, slowly climbing out of the car with trembling legs, „what is the meaning of this?"

Alvarez motioned at three of the soldiers, telling them to handcuff us. My first instinct was, as always, to fight back with all my strength, but we all could easily see that any struggle would be futile when at least two dozen heavily armed San Theodosians were surrounding us.

The soldier roughly shoved me against the car, pushing my hands onto my back and handcuffing them together. I saw them doing the same with Haddock and Calculus, then each of us was held firmly in place by three soldiers while Colonel Alvarez read some official-looking document to us.

„Tintin, Archibald Haddock and Cuthbert Calculus, you are hereby arrested for conspiring to overthrow the government of San Theodoros. New evidence of a plot has surfaced that has led to accusations so serious and dismaying that we've been given orders to interrogate you at once."

.

.

.

Colonel Sponsz

_Prisión __del __Estado_, San Theodoros, February 20, 1974

I had just arrived at the San Theodoros _Prisión __del __Estado_ when Colonel Alvarez quickly greeted me in the courtyard. „We have them", he said with a smile. „All three of them, isolated in separate high security cells. Just the dog with Tintin. It was very easy; they did not resist."

„Good job!" I replied, appearing thoughtful for a moment, then I gave him a comradely pat on the shoulder. „About your advancement, Colonel... I'm not forgetting it."

„Thank you, sir!"

I went to visit Tintin first, accompanied by two guards. We knew that this young man was good at knocking out men who were much bigger and stronger than him; and that he was an expert at escaping too. I needed to keep up my guard at all times.

When he saw me, Tintin first looked confused, as if he'd forgotten who I was, then I saw the shocked look of realization on his face. „Sponsz!" he uttered.

And he understood. He didn't have to say anything – I could see it in his expression. Now he knew why he had been brought here.

„Got it now, eh?" I said, smirking.

„You...!" Tintin said. „Yes. That explains it all. Not Tapioca wants us._ You_ do."

I grinned. His little white dog sat in a corner and growled at me.

Tintin was standing right in front of me. „You want revenge..." It was a statement, not a question.

„Not sure what you're talking about, lad", I said, still unable to suppress a triumphant grin. „You've been found guilty of conspiring against Tapioca together with the traitor Alcazar, and I've been ordered to interrogate you."

„Liar!"

Oh yes, he was a beauty, even when he was angry. Or then perhaps even more so. Seen up close, he looked even younger, more boyish. Maybe I should check his passport again, just to make sure.

Such an adorable face. Whatever I was going to do to him, or going to order to be done to him, I would make sure that this face remained unscathed.

His hands were free – of course, prisoners had to be without handcuffs, or they wouldn't be able to pull down their pants to use the toilet bucket – and for a moment he appeared to consider an attack, but remained still. He knew he had no chance. Even when we were alone in the room, there were always heavily armed guards just on the other side of the door.

„We'll take you to the interrogation room now", I said. „Take the mutt with you."

Reluctantly he picked up the white dog, his gaze staying fixed on mine as if he were trying to kill me by staring at me.

Accompanied by the armed guards, I led him into the interrogation room, a bleak, bare-walled chamber only slightly bigger than a prison cell. Its only furniture was one table and two opposing chairs. A lone bulb on the ceiling threw dim light over the table. The whole room was so dreary I felt reminded of the Bordurian concentration camp where I had been a supervisor in former days.

I ordered the dog to be tied to an iron bar near the door; then I made the guards wait outside despite their objections that this prisoner was too dangerous for me to be alone with him.

"Now don't even think of trying anything stupid, like acting the hero", I said. „You won't get out of here. Even if you'd manage to overpower me - the guards outside are authorized to shoot you at the slightest suspicion that you might be making trouble. Got that?"

He responded with a blank stare.

„_Got __that?_" I would show him who's boss.

„I hope you know what you're doing, Colonel Sponsz", he said calmly. „You cannot keep us here. We're innocents, free citizens of Belgium. It's a blatant violation of human rights."

„A-ha-ha-ha! Yes, yes, you may try and call Amnesty International from here. Any time." I laughed.

„You're despicable, Colonel. What do you want from us? It's hard to believe you would abuse Tapioca's trust to this extent, faking an entire conspiracy against him just to indulge your petty personal revenge fantasies."

I pretended not to have heard the scolding tone. „You'll have to cooperate now, lad", I said. Oh yeah. I would bend him over that table and teach him the meaning of _humiliation_. The mere idea was arousing.

He did not reply.

„You understand?" I said. „You will now do as I say!"

„Depends, Colonel."

By the whiskers of Kûrvi-Tasch! Was he stupid, or was he really _that_ brazen? I drew my gun, and for a second or so I registered dismay on his face, but he seemed determined not to show any fear.

I pointed the gun at the dog. „Now listen. You'll do as I say, or I'll shoot the little bastard."

„No!" he exclaimed.

I grinned. „Well, then, obey me!"

His face contorted with anger. „You'd shoot an innocent, helpless dog...!"

Keeping the gun pointed at the dog I released its safety. Tintin must have heard the low _click_, for his voice turned a little higher. „Please, don't shoot him! I will cooperate, Colonel. Please, put down that gun. Don't hurt Snowy!"

„Good", I said, directing the gun at him. „You learn fast. Bend over that table."

He opened his mouth to speak, but quickly closed it. He seemed confused; probably thought I was going to spank him. Still staring at me with unconcealed anger in his expression, he bent over the table. I felt a warm sensation of excitement in my abdomen.

_Spanking? Ha-ha. No such luck, pretty boy. You're not getting away that easily for humiliating Colonel Sponsz._

I stepped behind him, roughly grabbing his bottom with one hand. It felt firm and round in those tight jeans. _Nice_.


	4. Chapter 4

4.

Tintin

_Prisión__ del __Estado_, San Theodoros, February 20, 1974

Maybe it was time to surrender. I had seen Pablo, that San Theodosian guy who once saved my life, among the guards who had brought us to prison. Did that mean anything? But he apparently wasn't working here. Did I still have a friend? There was no way to find out. No way to contact the outside world, no way to send messages even to the Captain and Calculus who were imprisoned somewhere in this building.

And now Colonel Sponsz. Sponsz of all people! I had instantly understood that he was the one who'd set the trap for us.

That bastard was now standing behind me and fondling me.

He wouldn't actually try... to violate me, would he? It was inconceivable. The mere idea was so absurd I almost laughed. Men didn't do that to each other. He was just trying to humiliate me a little, touching me in weird places, before spanking me or beating me up, or something like that.

As long as he spared Snowy, Captain Haddock and Calculus, I was ready to bear this.

_It'll __be__ over __soon._ My head and hands were resting on the table, the plastic felt cool against my cheek. I closed my eyes, trying to focus on something nice. _Breakfast __at __Marlinspike__ with__ coffee__ and__ butter __croissants._

I heard and even felt the Colonel's heavy breath as he bent over me, his face close to my neck. He was close, so very uncomfortably close, rubbing his lower body against my bottom. His hands were trailing under my jumper, caressing my sides and chest.

He was going too far!

And he was getting increasingly aroused, soon squeezing his hard erection against my bottom, while breathing onto the back of my neck. His mouth was just above my nape for a moment, then I felt his lips there, trailing from one of my ears to the other. The stubble on his face felt irritatingly rough on my skin.

„Mmm, Tintin", he muttered, „you smell good, y'know that?"

He wouldn't. _He__ wouldn't__ do __this!_ No! No! Panic rose up inside me.

And I realized how badly I had been mistaken: Of course he would do this! Did I really believe that bad things would never happen to me just because I was Tintin, the famous reporter? Was I truly that naive? I had met plenty of bad guys, and plenty of bad things had happened to me. It was just a matter of time until _this,_ too, would happen to me.

Sponsz fumbled around with my jeans, clumsily reaching for the button and zipper to open them.

Dear God, no.

I felt a rush of adrenaline and panic. „No!" I screamed, suddenly turning around to shove Sponsz from me, and for a moment I actually succeeded: He stumbled backwards, and I tried to make a jump towards the door. But he instantly threw himself back at me, pushing me onto the table, now with my back down so that we were facing each other.

If I at least could reach his gun! I fought against him, but my kicks and punches were delivered too blindly, too wildly; he fended them off, hitting me back, his face distorted with hatred. Great snakes! I hadn't even begun to understand how much he hated me.

Of course he'd guessed I would reach for his gun, so he speedily grabbed it and pressed it against my forehead. „Stay still", he hissed from between clenched teeth. The metal of the barrel felt icy.

I froze. I was so terrified, my breath was going fast. „Please, don't!" I said. „Don't do this."

„You'll pay for disobeying me", he said, then suddenly the cold metal was gone from my head. Still pressing me down to the table with one arm, he pointed the gun somewhere towards the door and pulled the trigger.

I realized. „NO!" I screamed.

There was a loud _bang_, and one short, abrupt howl.

„Turn around", Sponsz ordered, roughly grabbing my shoulders and positioning me facedown on the table, the same way as before.

No. _No!__ Snowy!_

I could see it now – on the ground next to the door lay the small, fluffy body of my longtime friend and dog. Snowy lay motionless on the floor, a large stain of blood on his white fur. The wall behind him was covered with splatters.

Speechless and paralyzed, I did not even resist when I noticed Sponsz fumbling around with my pants again.

Snowy was dead. _My__ Snowy, __dead._

„I'll let you in on a secret", Sponsz growled quietly into my ear. „Your friend Captain Haddock, he's as disposable as that dog. Stay still now if you don't want to cause any more deaths."

.

Colonel Sponsz

_Prisión __del __Estado_, San Theodoros, February 20, 1974

That little devil was in fact as strong and agile as they'd told me; but I wasn't someone who appreciated a worthy opponent: power was more important, control mattered above all else. Tintin had fought back, and I'd barely managed to subdue him, last but not least by shooting his little mutt.

He would see that my threats weren't to be taken lightly! This little _bastard_, he was practically asking for it, provoking me like that.

By now I was so aroused that it was hard to bear, and my erection made my uniform pants feel uncomfortably tight. Hastily I opened my pants with one hand while firmly keeping Tintin down on the table with the other, pressing my own knees against the back of his knees, making sure he wouldn't escape; though most likely he would cooperate now.

„Colonel, please don't", he said. „Don't do this." He was trembling, his voice sounded shaky. „You've just gotten your revenge. You shot my dog. Please, let me go now."

I pulled his blue jumper up to see more of that slender back. His fair, smooth skin felt as soft as I had guessed. He shivered when I touched him.

„Let me go", he insisted. It sounded weak, unconvinced. He knew that there was no way out.

His fashionably tight jeans were a little harder to pull down, but I finally managed it.

Even now, I could hardly believe it. _Sweet __revenge!_ I had triumphed over my longtime enemy, and would now degrade him to my catamite.

It should've been a moment to be savoured, but I could not wait, quickly pushing my member against his entrance. _Damn._ No way to get in. I tried again, harder. „Damnit, relax", I panted. „Relax!"

Using some saliva to moisten things up, I tried once more, rougher and harder. Finally, I managed to get inside him, just halfway at first – it hurt a little, but seemed to be more painful for Tintin. He let out a cry, and immediately pressed his own hand onto his mouth, apparently determined to stay silent. Even now, he was still defiant.

I struggled to fit myself in – he was almost too tight for me; obviously no one had ever done this to him. But it felt good already. Gripping his hips, I started to move, slowly, until it felt even better, hot and wonderful. An overwhelming feeling of power and triumph only added to my growing excitement.

Again I bent over him, breathing on his nape and ears. „I'm making you mine", I hissed; and just because I wanted to, I kissed his nape with a tenderness that was strange in contrast to my otherwise rough manner, but I really liked the smell of his skin – sweet and sweaty, he smelled of fear.

He made no sound; did not even move. Apparently he was hoping to get this over with quickly. I put one arm around his waist and grabbed his hair with my other hand, yanking his head back. „_Ow!_" he shouted.

„Don't you like being fucked, eh?" I growled. „I know you like it! Say it!"

„Go to hell", he shouted.

Tintin's response wasn't quite the one I wanted but fueled my arousal nonetheless. I began to thrust faster, taking him more roughly. He whimpered despite all efforts to stay quiet. The table creaked and moved slightly.

„Oh yeah... you like that, don't you", I muttered, more to myself than to him.

He was unable to suppress a series of pained moans as I took him._ Ahh,__ so__ good..._ this was so good. I made no more effort to speak, simply enjoying the sensation, leaning over him and fucking him, _conquering _him. The table-legs squeaked on the floor.

I knew I wouldn't be able to last as long as this little devil deserved. My climax was near.

With a low groan I forced myself deeply inside him, digging my fingernails into his hips, letting the wave of release sweep over me as I spilled my seed inside him. Breathing heavily, I pulled out and struggled to maintain my composure. Exhausted as I was, I was vulnerable, and I must not let my guard down at any cost. Suddenly afraid that he would attack, I kept him pressed down on the table for a while, at the same time trying to zip up my pants and to regain a clear mind.

_Ah, Tintin, I've conquered you._


	5. Chapter 5

5.

Tintin

_Prisión __del __Estado_, San Theodoros, February 21, 1974

Judging from the dim sunset light shining through the tiny window in my cell, it was evening. I had been alone in my cell almost all day. At least today Sponsz hadn't been here.

Never before had I even _imagined_ the possibility of such humiliation, of such a brutal invasion. This made matters worse. When he had shot Snowy and then assaulted me on that table, it was as if he'd actually killed some part of me.

Afterwards he'd just given me enough time to pull up my jeans, and had sent me outside. I'd been barely able to stand on my legs when the armed guards surrounded me, leading me back to my prison cell. They had seemed less curious than usual (I, the blonde Belgian boy, was a real standout in this place), not really looking at me. There had been an awkward silence, as if they'd somehow suspected what the Colonel had done to me, though I tried my best to maintain composure and a blank face, ignoring the raw, burning pain in my backside and trying to walk normally despite of it. I hoped there was no bleeding.

When I'd been alone in my cell, I knew I couldn't hold back the feelings of shame and anger any longer. I had spent the rest of that day pressing my face into the old mattress, sobbing.

If I had at least a chance to wash! But there was no sink here, no towels or paper, no water. Not even a toilet, just a bucket in the corner. The warm stickiness of his semen between my thighs would remind me of him for a while. There was some blood as well, and I did not even have my handkerchief to wipe it away – they'd confiscated the entire contents of my clothes pockets.

Nothing had happened today, except they had let me use the shower – alone. Though there was only cold water, it had felt as welcome as a drink in the desert. I had washed myself vigorously as if that all that rubbing could somehow get rid of the memory of Sponsz' hands on me. I knew it couldn't, but my irrational mind was persistent, constantly reminding me of this awful thing, even making me feel guilty, because I hadn't been mentally prepared for something like that. It was terrible.

I was worried about my friends. What was Captain Haddock doing? Was he truly as 'disposable' as Sponsz had said? Well, I would be disposable too, when he was tired of playing with me. He had now gotten his personal revenge. When would he have us executed? That was his intention, after all, wasn't it?

I was beginning to feel hungry. Yesterday I had had no appetite; although my stomach had been empty it seemed to have been full with the heavy sense of hopelessness. Now my appetite was returning, so I was instantly alert when I heard the opening of the narrow slot in the door through which meals were delivered. I heard the guard outside announce „Dinner!", and a small tray was pushed through the slot.

I quickly took the tray and caught a look through the slot. It was wide enough to fit my hand through so I could see who'd brought me the food. It was Pablo, and he was looking at me, apparently nervous.

Maybe I still had a friend!

As my friend Chang once had said, „_The __darkest __hour __is __just __before __the __dawn_" ...

„How's the Captain doing? How's Calculus?" I anxiously demanded to know.

„Sssh", he said. „Talk quietly. Haddock's doing fine. And they brought Calculus away this morning."

„What?" I forgot to stay quiet. „Calculus is gone? Why?"

„Don't know", he replied. „Sponsz seemed to want to keep it a secret. They brought him outside as discreetly as possible, in the early morning hours, then he was driven away in a car. No idea why. Ah, someone's coming! I must go now."

And he was gone.

I must make sure to not get my hopes too high up. A single prison guard wouldn't be able to get useful information, much less help me escape.

So Sponsz had brought Calculus away, and few people knew about it. It was a crazy idea, but _what __if_ Sponsz actually hoped to do what he'd failed to do last time? To force Calculus to work for him, developing a weapon of mass destruction for Borduria?

It would be dangerous for Sponsz, smuggling someone out of this country without Tapioca noticing. Certainly it would be treachery towards Tapioca, especially if Tapioca learned about the powerful weapon.

And what about me and Haddock? Sponsz knew he couldn't keep us here forever. The world knew we were here. There would be international pressure on the San Theodosian government if we disappeared. Unless we died in something that truly seemed to be an accident, there was no way this small country could get rid of us without risking diplomatic relationships.

After I was finished with the barely edible foodlike substance on my dinner tray (I saved the paper napkin, stashing it under my mattress) I heard footsteps approaching. That always made me anxious. It could be the best thing to happen, such as a friend, an informer – or it could be the very worst. I wasn't sure if I could bear Sponsz forcing himself upon me again. The mere thought made my stomach turn, filling it with heavy despair.

I heard the doorbolts open, and Colonel Sponsz stepped into my prison cell, smoking a cigarette.

It felt as if someone had punched me in the stomach. I got up from the mattress where I had sat, and regarded him with what I thought was a pokerface, but didn't fully manage to hide my fear. I felt myself getting nauseuos and a little pale.

„Well, well,_ szâlut_, my little devil." He smiled and threw away his cigarette, crushing it on the floor under his boots. „Get down on that bed. We shall have some more fun."

_Oh__ God, __no._

What to do? Was there possibly a way out of this? I knew that Sponsz was driven by hatred and lust for revenge, and if I managed to make him angry, he'd be more likely to rape me.

„Colonel", I said, trying to assume a calm tone while racking my brain for a plan, „wouldn't it be fair if you just told me a little about my friends in exchange? I'm so worried about them."

„That's none of your damn business!"

Desperately, I said, „You're trying to get Calculus to work for you again, aren't you?"

„What?" He stared at me, and I noticed the fleeting expression of shock on his face, but he quickly caught himself. „I said, that's none of your goddamned business. Get down on that bed!"

Ah-ha. So it was true. It wasn't just about personal revenge. What he wanted, first and foremost, was the weapon of mass destruction for his native Borduria.

I had nothing to lose, so I kept talking. „Now I understand why you're keeping me and the Captain here. It would be too risky, doing all this just to get revenge and nothing else. We're your hostages. You tell Calculus that if he doesn't build the weapon for Borduria, we'll be killed. He has no choice but to do the work."

He stared at me, silently, without objecting. That probably meant I had guessed correctly, and he wanted me to keep talking just to see how much I knew.

„But the problem is, the plans for the weapon are gone", I said. „Destroyed. He burnt them right after we brought him back from Borduria that time, years ago. It may take months, even years, until he has worked out those blueprints all over again. And you cannot afford to keep us prisoners here for long – the world knows we're here, the media will talk. All kinds of human rights groups are going to ask questions. It's gonna be _very_ uncomfortable for the San Theodosian government. General Tapioca would be a in a real jam because of you. Even more so if we were to be murdered. "

Finally he spoke. „You won't be killed" he said with an icy smile. „Maybe you will die in a very tragic, unfortunate accident involving terrorists."

Damn. I felt my breath going faster. „They're still gonna ask questions", I said. „It's gonna be a sticky situation. Tapioca may lose face."

„That'll be _my_ concern, not yours!" He stepped closer to me, and for a moment I thought he was going to hit me, or push me onto the mattress. But then his grin widened, and he touched my face with one hand, letting it trail along my cheek and neck. „You're even smarter than I gave you credit for, boy", he said. „Yes, you're right. Calculus will build that weapon for Borduria, and you'll be my hostages. Too bad you won't work for Borduria, we could use more bright folks like you. "

I still had one last triumph. „It's treason", I said. „If Tapioca finds out what you're doing... getting your country armed without his permission and knowledge, and faking a conspiracy so you can follow your own plans behind his back... if the General finds out, you'll be the one getting executed for treason!"

He was breathing heavily, but stayed calm. „Enough. Shut up now, boy."

I could tell he was anxious, so I knew I'd been right. Now it made full sense what Pablo had told me. Calculus might be on his way to Borduria at this very moment; maybe he was already there. With Sponsz' rank and connections, it couldn't be too hard to smuggle him over the border.

„Your plan is bound to fail", I continued, knowing that I was talking myself into trouble, but it was the only victory I had right now, and I was desperate. „They're gonna find out that you've got Calculus. You'll be accused of treason long before he even puts down the pen to design a blueprint. Consider the consequences for the Bordurian government! You will have failed them too. But there's a way you can get out of this. Appeal to Tapioca to pardon us, all of us, including Calculus. Tell him we indeed conspired against him, but that you couldn't make out any danger. Make him believe we're powerless against him, and he may be moved to let us leave the country if he doesn't want to risk diplomatic or trade relationships. International pressure will take care of that. If he's pardoning us, we'll be alive _and_ he will save face! He'll even appear reasonable and generous! And you, too, will be safe."

I could sense Sponsz' nervousness. He was looking at his boots pensively, as if he was trying to conjure up an answer. Even if my reasonable appeal would have no effect right now, he seemed to have forgotten what he'd come here for, and to me that was worth it. Distracted and secretly upset, he'd be less likely to hurt me.

„Does Colonel Alvarez know about all this?" I asked carefully.

He made a step towards me, pointing at my nose with one finger. „Don't...!" he hissed, his face reddening. „You're in no position to ask questions!"

I made an effort to hide my triumph. I had him! Oh yes, I had caught him! He was a lone traitor who had not even confided in Alvarez, the person who had been taking care of us all along here in San Theodoros.

„We'll talk later", Sponsz finally said, turning around and going back. He closed the door behind him with a loud _bam_, then I again heard the clicking of closing latches.

A sense of relief swept over me. I let myself fall onto the mattress, ready to sleep, at least for now.

.

Colonel Sponsz

Tapiocapolis, San Theodoros, February 21, 1974

He was right. I knew he was right. What I was doing here was incredibly risky. Colonel Alvarez knew about the fake conspiracy, but not about Professor Calculus' dangerous invention. I did not believe for a moment that Calculus had actually destroyed the plans. He might be a goddamn Pacifist hippie, just like his friends, but to lose plans for an invention like that – something with the potential to change the world, to make a lot of money for its inventor – was just plain stupid. Even for hippies.

Of course I had gone great lengths to make sure that Alvarez would never know what had actually happened to Calculus. He, Tapioca and everyone else thought that Calculus was still imprisoned here. I'd had the Professor brought away in the early morning hours via Argentinia where I had old friends (a bunch of Germans who'd migrated there in 1945); I'd arranged a private plane, fake passport and papers, and my Bordurian informers had told me that he'd arrived in Szohôd this afternoon. Everything seemed to have worked perfectly according to the plan. Calculus was now being held in a secret laboratory in Borduria, knowing that his friends would be killed if he didn't cooperate. Communication with him was a little difficult, but if one wrote everything down on paper, he understood perfectly well.

When Marshal Kûrvi-Tasch learnt about this, I was practically guaranteed a high rank in the Bordurian government. He would get me out of this messy, unstable, subtropical hellhole; I would go back home to Borduria!

I was alone in my modern luxury apartment in Tapiocapolis, reviewing the fake interrogation reports. Alvarez had done a good job writing them. He should've become a novelist. There was a lot of gibberish in them, but it was almost credible enough for General Tapioca to condemn them. Almost. A few things still had to be fixed. I would call Alvarez now and tell him.

Tintin's astute observations had distressed me very much, even to the extent that I had felt too anxious to stay in his presence any longer. But now, after thinking about the whole thing once again, I was reassured that nothing could go wrong. They would soon be executed in the fake accident anyway; Calculus wouldn't hear anything about that, isolated as he was in Bordurian captivity. He would diligently work on that weapon, always believing that Tintin's and Haddock's lives were at stake even after they were long dead.

And I had gotten my revenge. _Sweet__ revenge_. The memory of his firm, youthful body and smooth skin in my hands caused a warm sensation in my groin. I found myself getting aroused again. If only he were here this very instant! I'd fuck him right here on my desk.

Well, there was more time for that tomorrow. Right now it was almost midnight. I looked at the watch – 23:34. I knew that Colonel Alvarez went to bed later than that but was always home at that time, so I picked up the phone and called him.

„Give me Colonel Alvarez", I said gruffly to his secretary. „Chief of Police Sponsz here."

„Colonel Alvarez isn't home", his secretary replied. „He went out an hour ago."

„What?" What an annoyance! If I couldn't even rely on my inferiors to be there when I needed them-! Power and control mattered above all else. „Where is he?" I demanded.

„Um..." The secretary hesistated. „He did not tell me."

„Are you fucking kidding me? I am his superior, and I'm not allowed to know where he is? Listen, you brat..." I inhaled deeply, then realized that if Alvarez really didn't want anyone to know where he was, he wouldn't have told even his secretary. He would've told no one. Maybe not even Tapioca. „We'll talk later", I said and hung up.

.

Tintin

_Prisión __del__ Estado_, San Theodoros, Night of February 21-22, 1974

They shook me out of my sleep. Abruptly I sat up on my mattress, and looked around me, assessing the situation. There were three prison guards with a flashlight. What the...? What did they want now? It must be around midnight.

„Get up. Come with us", one said.

„But what... what?" I was terrified. My rational mind told me to simply stay calm, while my irrational mind loudly screamed _danger_.

Damn my irrational mind; it had gotten louder and stronger since the incident with Sponsz. If I wanted to get over the rape, I would have to fight it; that blasted voice in my head that seemed to hate me, making me feel guilty and weak. I was a strong, independent spirit. I could not allow these feelings to take over!

„Your presence is requested. Get up!"

With trembling legs I got up from the mattress, quickly reaching for my jeans and jumper. Whomever I was going to meet, I wouldn't meet him in my undershirt and shorts. They waited patiently while I got dressed, then led me out of the cell, into the interrogation room.

Everything inside me fought against entering that room, but they mercilessly shoved me inside. I saw the table where Sponsz had raped me, the lone lightbulb with its dim yellow light. _Oh__ no,__ don't __let__ it __happen __again.__ Please,__ don't!_

There at the table sat, to my great surprise, Colonel Alvarez. He motioned the guards to wait outside and close the door.

„Sit down", he said. I obeyed and regarded him with curiosity, and the same time, anger. This had been our friendly host and tourist guide, he'd been solicitous and comradely, while cooperating with Sponsz in his conspiracy against us. _That__ hypocritical __traitor._ I wondered what he could possibly want from me.

„Mr Tintin", he began, „I have a few serious concerns and was hoping you'd help me."

„Help you with what?"

„You see, I wanted to see you all this evening, in secret, without asking Sponsz. Just to see how you were being treated. I saw Mr Haddock; he is doing fine. Then I went to see Mr Calculus. But he was gone. No one in this prison could tell me where he has been brought."

„Oh, he is gone?" I pretended ignorance.

Alvarez nodded, his expression dead serious. „Totally gone. And so I remembered that Colonel Sponsz had once talked about Calculus working for Borduria, something along the lines of 'What a pity he didn't agree to work for us'. I'm now wondering what you know, Mr Tintin. Could Colonel Sponsz possibly have abducted the Professor?"

„Why don't you go ask him yourself?"

„Watch your tone, Mr Tintin. You're in our hand and we'll punish you if you don't cooperate."

I hesistated. Colonel Alvarez apparently didn't know about the weapon of mass destruction. It was a difficult situation. I knew something that he didn't. I should use this to my advantage.

„Well..." I began. „You obviously know that the charges against us are fake. That we don't plan to overthrow Tapioca, that we can't even communicate with Alcazar. You've played along with Sponsz' plan because he is your superior; the police chief of San Theodoros. And let me tell you, that police chief is betraying Tapioca not for his personal revenge against us, but for much more serious and dangerous purposes."

Alvarez nodded. „Continue."

„I'll tell you what he is planning if you help us get out of here. All of us, including Calculus. We just want to go home, and we'll shut up about the whole thing."

The Colonel's eyes narrowed; obviously he disliked this proposal.

„It's a matter of national security", I said. „Perhaps you should let me talk to General Tapioca himself."

„So Sponsz has dangerous plans..." Alvarez muttered. „_¡__Madre__ de __Dios!_ Don't tell me _he_ wants to overthrow the government of San Theodoros!"

„That I don't know", I replied, which was the truth. Nah, a madman like Sponsz would rather take over the entire world. It'd be easy if Borduria was the only nation in possession of such a potent weapon.

Alvarez sat there for a while, shaking his head. „Hm, hm", he said. „All right. Mr Tintin, I will tell Tapioca that you've got something important to tell him under the condition that you and your friends will be freed if it _truly_ turns out to be a matter of national security and if a disaster can be prevented with your help."

I couldn't believe my ears. No, no, he was most certainly feeding me lies, as he'd done all along. This guy was cunning. Nonetheless I forced myself to smile. „Thank you, Colonel Alvarez."

He responded with his own warm smile. „Now tell me, have you been treated well, Mr Tintin?"

I froze. Did he possibly suspect anything? No, he'd never believe such a thing. A man raping another man? Most people thought that was absurd. Even I had thought it to be absurd for a long time. That matter wouldn't become public. I wasn't sure if I could stand being ridiculed about this. Or accused of lying. No, I would get over this incident entirely on my own. I was strong, I had myself under control! I would focus on my rational mind that always said 'it's not your fault', 'it's not personal' – things like that. My irrational mind would be silenced soon.

„I'm fine", I said, avoiding his gaze.

„Mr Tintin", he said, suddenly sounding serious. „Until very recently I didn't know what kind of man Colonel Sponsz is. But since he started talking about you, I know it. You can talk openly to me. Did he abuse you?"

I looked into his eyes. „I am fine", I repeated.


	6. Chapter 6

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Wheee, so many reviews! Didn't quite expect that. Thank you, I'm glad you like it.  
>A few comments from me :]<p>

_etoile-de-saphir, seerstella_:  
>Sadly, Captain Haddock here is in no position at all to save Tintin. Of course he wants to, but what can he do?<br>The fact he can't help Tintin is very difficult for him to accept. More on that later :]

_Crimson Glory Kai_:  
>Colonel Alvarez is, like most people, neither good nor bad. He just 1) wants to do his job, and 2) be loyal to both Sponsz and Tapioca. Which proves difficult when he suspects Sponsz is a traitor. But Alvarez does have a conscience, so he's at least a <em>little bit<em> concerned about Tintin.

6.

Colonel Sponsz

_Prisión __del __Estado_, San Theodoros, February 22, 1974

What a beautiful day! So warm and sunny, even for San Theodoros where it was more or less warm all year round.

I had gone to the prison again because I really needed to get some more of that cute Tintin. Meeting Colonel Alvarez could wait. I would ask him later, in the afternoon, where he had been, and then make him tweak the interrogation paper. Maybe rewrite it a little, as a punishment for not reporting to me.

Although I was feeling victorious and my need for revenge had been satisfied, I wanted to have Tintin again. It was really a shame that he'd have to die – he would make a perfect slave. But I knew that was unrealistic. No one could keep an actual slave in their home, much less a famous reporter. It was way too risky, and that guy was dangerous. Once more I reminded myself to never, ever underestimate him, no matter how many times he'd be in my hands, literally and figuratively. Actually, it was his bold personality, that defiant spirit, that excited me. I wondered if I could break that spirit; it'd be an interesting challenge.

And there was Captain Haddock. I hadn't wrought revenge upon him yet. Well, I could think of something. Not the same thing I'd done to Tintin – old, alcoholic bearded sailors didn't incite my desire – but there were many ways to humiliate someone.

Entering the prison courtyard in my car, I was immediately greeted by the guards. They always treated me with the utmost respect and fear, as if I were General Tapioca himself.

„I need to interrogate Captain Haddock", I requested.

They led me to his cell, and upon seeing me, he gave me the same shocked look of realization that I'd seen on Tintin's face.

„You!" he shouted. „You... you... Sponsz! You Gestapo gangster! Bordurian ectoplasm! Nazi! Son of a cucumber! Cannibal! Why are you here, you bashi-bazouk? Where is Tintin?"

I was amused. Truly, an impressive vocabulary! Just what they'd described to me.

„Shall we handcuff him?" one of the guards asked. I told them yes. He seemed to be a very emotional person, unlike Tintin, and might attack me even under these circumstances.

They handcuffed him, and I ordered them to wait outside.

„Well", I said. „You wanted to know how your little friend's doing? Actually, Tintin is fine."

He looked at me as if he didn't really believe it. „Fine?"

„Yup. He's the finest piece of ass I ever had."

It was a pleasure to see the look on his face. I had to grin. That expression of shock was priceless.

„What... what do you mean?", he uttered, looking at me incredulously.

„Ah ha ha ha! I now know that you and Tintin aren't lovers. How I know that? Because he was a virgin. Real nice and tight. But so much pride in that cute head of his. It took him a lot of effort to not scream through the whole building!"

Haddock's face reddened with anger. „You... you..." he began.

„I, what?" I smiled. „You don't believe me? How about I fuck him again, right here in front of your eyes?"

„Billions of barbecued blue blistering barnacles!", he screamed at a volume that surprised me. „Don't you dare touch him, you depraved bucaneer! Monster! Pederast! Psychopath!"

_He__ he __he._ I had come here because of Tintin, and now that I'd gotten my first impression of Haddock, I started to like the idea of doing Tintin again while the old sailor watched.

I opened the door and told the guards that I wanted Haddock in the interrogation chamber. And that he would have to be tied to the bar near the door, because he was especially dangerous.

They complied, as always, and left me in the interrogation room with him. I made sure he was really unable to free himself from the wall and waited a moment while he drowned me in a waterfall of swearwords.

Then I opened the door. „Bring Tintin here", I said to the guards. „That Haddock absolutely refuses to cooperate unless he can see for himself that his accomplice is alive and well."

At once they'd brought Tintin to me. „Shall we handcuff him too?" a guard asked.

I hesistated. „Okay, do that", I finally said. Better safe than sorry. They secured his hands on his back, then I told them not to enter the room under any circumstances, even if they heard screams. I was armed and in full control. They nodded quietly; every single of those tough guys had experience with torture and knew it was necessary sometimes. Some had even done it themselves.

I pushed Tintin into the interrogation room, locked the door and watched their reaction as they saw each other.

„Captain!" Tintin gasped, apparently unsure what to make of the situation.

„Tintin!" the Captain shouted. „Oh my God, Tintin! You're doing okay, yes? Tell me you're doing fine!"

Tintin looked as if he was going to cry. „I'm fine, Captain", he said. „Don't worry about me, please."

Now Haddock stared at me. „Listen, you Hitler's-left-ball-with-barnacles! Don't you dare do anything to the lad! If you touch him... I will- I will make sure you wish that you'd never been born, you Fascist piece of guano!"

„Big words for a prisoner", I said. Indeed, he angrily pulled at the handcuffs, but they were fastened securely to the iron bar near the door. He wouldn't be able to free himself. I needed to keep an eye on Tintin who was more or less running around free – this time he mustn't outwit or out-talk me! And I mustn't get distracted by Haddock. This situation was a lot more dangerous than the last time when I'd been here with Tintin only.

I drew my gun, pointing it at the young lad. Already, I was feeling excited. The fact that now someone would be watching me didn't decrease my arousal. Quite the contrary: I longed for the feeling of power and superiority: Haddock, too, would know the meaning of humiliation when he was forced to watch this.

„Bend over the table", I said to Tintin. „Over there, so that you're facing him. I want him to see your face when I'm doing you."

I heard a horrified gasp from the Captain.

Tintin, too, was capable of priceless expressions. I savoured the shocked look on his cute face. He made a desperate, weak attempt to change my mind. „Colonel, please think of your honor", he said. „Think of what your Bordurian superiors would say if they knew-"

He wouldn't talk me out of anything this time!  
>„Shut up!" I made a step forward and slapped him in the face. „Do as I say, or I'll shoot your sailor friend!" I directed the gun at the Captain.<p>

Tintin was standing in front of me, trembling with fear, his cheek reddening where I'd hit him. I even believed to detect tears in his eyes. Then, noticing the gun pointed at Haddock, the strong, independent, famous reporter finally shut up and obediently bent over the table.

.

Tintin

_Prisión __del__ Estado_, San Theodoros, February 22, 1974

I wanted to cry. Not only did he force himself upon me again which was repulsive enough, but this time Captain Haddock was seeing it all. If only my hands were free, then perhaps this time I'd be desperate enough to try snatching the Colonel's gun from him.

I stood there, shivering and ashamed, while he pulled my jeans down. I didn't dare look at the Captain; the feeling of shame was even more overwhelming this time. In fact, I wasn't sure if I had ever, in my entire life, felt that humiliated before.

I heard some rustling, heavy breathing; felt the Colonel's hands on my body. He was squeezing my buttocks, slapping them, then he pressed his hard, warm erection against me.

Oh dear God, I hoped that the Captain was looking away.

„Good boy", Sponsz muttered.

I pressed my lips together tightly, determined not to cry nor make any other sounds. But I couldn't prevent tears from flooding my eyes.

He moaned softly as he was trying to enter me. It hurt – and I knew it'd hurt even more soon. I felt the warmth of his body over me and his labored panting; and bit my lower lip at his clumsy, unsuccessful efforts to force his way into my body.

His next attempt was successful. I could not suppress a pained cry as he pushed himself inside me, slowly and forcefully.

„No!" I heard the Captain shout. It did not sound angry, but desperate, defeated. Never before had I heard the Captain's voice like this. It threatened to shatter whatever little spirit I had left.

„Don't watch!" I responded. „Ahhh-!"

Damn, this hurt so much. Sponsz was breathing heavily. He began to move inside me, thrusting, groaning.

He was leaning fully over me, and I could feel his breath near my ear. He was screwing me like a dog, like an _animal_, clearly enjoying my submission.

I bit my own lip harder, maybe it'd distract from the pain a little. No matter what, I did not want to scream. But I couldn't hold back a whimper as he began to thrust harder.

The table-legs creaked._ Oh God, let it be over!_

Tears were running down my face. Even now I still looked away from the Captain, hoping he also looked away. This was the only thing worse than being raped: Being raped while the most important person in your life was watching.

Sponsz didn't take long to finish. With a heavy sigh he ejaculated inside me – this was the meaning of that strange twitching, I now knew – and stayed on top of me for a while, still panting. I felt his warm breath on my nape.

Revulsion threatened to overtake me, and I wanted to throw up. But I kept still, waiting, my head resting on the table, reminding myself that it was over now.

Then I heard the Captain speak. „You are a goddamned animal, Sponsz"; he said. His voice sounded shaky. I lifted my head, risked a glance at him. His face was reddened, his eyes wet with tears. „You _monster!_ You degenerate... you... you..." He fell silent.

For the first time Captain Haddock found no words.


	7. Chapter 7

7.

Tintin

_Prisión__ del __Estado_, San Theodoros, February 23, 1974

All day long I had stayed in bed (if the worn-out, smelly mattress on the cold conrete floor deserved that name) because there was nothing else to do. My irrational mind talked to me all the time - „_it's__ your__ fault,__ Tintin!__ You__ should've __been__ mentally __prepared... __you__ shouldn't __have__ gone__ here...__you __shouldn't__ even__ have__ watched__ the__ news __at__ Marlinspike...__ you__ shouldn't, __you __shouldn't... __it's __your __fault __he __raped __you_" until I cried for about ten minutes while trying to silence that hateful voice with the voice of my rational mind: _„__It's__ never,__ ever__ the__ victim's __fault,__ you__ can__ never __be__ prepared__ for __it,__ Tintin, __accept__ the __fact __that __you're __hurt...__" _I was reasonable about it, I knew all those things very well, so why was the voice of my irrational mind so strong? Perhaps I wasn't fighting it hard enough.

I did not even have an appetite, especially not for the vile stuff on the tray they pushed through the slot in the wall twice daily. My stomach was full with anger and shame; and it felt as if there was a heavy lump in my throat that wouldn't let any food pass by. Even when my stomach growled I still didn't touch my meals. It was strange: I was someone who loved eating, but suddenly didn't feel like it.

I didn't know what time of the day it was when my unexpected visitor arrived.

It was Colonel Alvarez, and he stepped into my prison cell in a hurry. „Please come with me, Mr Tintin", he said. „We'll have to clear up a few things."

Finally, the execution. That must be a trip to some place where we would die in a fake accident. I got up, feeling dizzy. Why was my mind so foggy? Had I truly eaten that little? Without saying a word or looking at Alvarez I got dressed and put on my shoes.

.

.

Alvarez had brought me to his own private villa in Tapiocapolis, and for a moment I had gotten my hopes up: _Freedom!_ There must be a way to escape! At the same time, this sudden rush of enthusiasm was dampened by the fact that the Captain was still inside the prison. And I had no idea what Alvarez could possibly want from me.

I sat at a table in his garden which was surrounded by armed guards, opposite the Colonel.

„This conversation has to stay absolutely confidential", he said. „Do you understand?"

I nodded. Whatever he wanted. I just hoped he wouldn't ask me again about what Sponsz had done. If I had to tell anyone, it would surely make me break down and cry; and that would be a defeat in my struggle against my irrational mind. I must not let my hateful irrational mind win! I must keep myself under control.

He got straight to the point: „I want us to cooperate, Mr Tintin", he said. „I knew right from the beginning that you technically aren't traitors, and that Colonel Sponsz simply framed you – and Bianca Castafiore and the Thompsons – for motives of personal revenge. And I'll admit it, I was fine with that. I do what my superiors tell me. But as I told you before, I have concerns that Sponsz might be involved in real treason on a much bigger scale. First abducting Professor Calculus. Strange calls from and to his phone, to strange people in Argentinia and Borduria. I did my research and found out that Calculus had been abducted to Borduria some years previously. Look, Mr Tintin, if my concerns about Sponsz are well-founded, you'll understand that I don't want to be associated with him in any way. I'm loyal to General Tapioca first and foremost."

And yet you participated in the fake conspiracy, I thought. But I didn't raise objections. He had my full attention now. If we were really candidates for the firing squad, I had nothing to lose so I would play along. „All right, Colonel Alvarez, I will cooperate with you."

„Good! You see, I have secretly done some research on Sponsz' connections, and I'm still not sure why he could have abducted Calculus if he really did that. What's the reason? Tell me everything you know."

„You should've researched Calculus' inventions", I replied. „Some years ago, he developed plans for an ultrasound machine so powerful that it could destroy entire structures of concrete and steel. Of course the machine was never built, there was just a prototype that could damage glass and china. The Bordurian government had Calculus abducted and forced him to work for them; they wanted to be the only nation in possession of such a device. By now, Calculus has long destroyed the plans for this thing. He's given up on it, he says it's too dangerous a machine. It would be used for purposes of war, and he's – to put it mildly - uncomfortable with the idea."

„_¡__Dios __nos __asista!_" Alvarez shook his head, staring at me with wide eyes. „Of course, of course. _¡Cómo__ no!_ And I thought... I thought..."

„That he's one hundred percent loyal to Tapioca? Don't fool yourself, Colonel. He's a puppy of the dictator Kûrvi-Tasch, he acts in Borduria's interests. Always has."

„Damn", Colonel Alvarez said. The look of serious concern on his face made me suspect that no games were being played here.

This wasn't really happening, was it? That guy doubting his boss Colonel Sponsz? Of course, Alvarez was a San Theodosian, he'd be more loyal to his own country than to Sponsz, a foreigner.

It could mean freedom for us! Freedom if Sponsz was discredited, accused of treason. Our charges could be dropped!

„Here's the plan", the Colonel said. „I will continue intercepting his telephone calls and letters to collect more evidence of his treason. Later I will examine all material with the help of Tapioca's closest aides. Meanwhile, I will order that you and Mr Haddock will be upgraded to a better accommodation. I'll get a special permission from the President himself for that so I won't have to ask Sponsz about it."

Just let us free, I almost demanded, but it was obvious that Tapioca would release us only when Sponsz was discredited and our own names cleared.

„And, um, one more thing", Alvarez said. „Did Sponsz _really_ not harm you in any way?"

I shook my head. Damn it, not that issue again! „No", I said icily.

„Are you sure? I was forced to hear some nasty things when listening to his phone calls." His voice dropped. „He was bragging about what he did to you... such a depraved, dishonorable act! He should be brought to trial for that!"

I bit my lower lip. „I'm fine. He did not hurt me."

Alvarez ignored my reply. „Just think about it. What he did is a crime. Your testimony can be used against him! It would get him in even more difficulties."

Well, he did have a point. But I didn't like the idea of publicly accusing Sponsz of something so _absurd_, even if it occured. „I'll consider it", I lied.

„I will make sure he will never touch you again from now on."

How the hell could Alvarez possibly accomplish this? Nevermind.

He offered me food. „You must be hungry. Would you like to eat with me? My cook makes the best beef stroganoff."

It'd be a lot better than the prison grub. This hospitality almost seemed too good to be true. Apparently Alvarez wanted to make sure that I was truly on his side and would keep everything secret. How fickle were the moods of Fortune! _The __darkest __hour__ is __just __before __the __dawn._ But I still had no appetite so I politely declined.

.

.

Just as he'd promised, Alvarez upgraded us to a B prison cell two days later. It wasn't an A cell (those were reserved for rich prisoners and celebrities such as Bianca Castafiore), but even so it was a real improvement. It was a room for both Captain Haddock and me, with two actual beds that had clean mattresses and sheets. In one corner there was a real, flushable toilet behind a low concrete wall, offering a minimum of privacy. We even had a sink now, in a corner near the door.

In addition, a doctor visited us, took samples of our bodily substances and examined us for every single thing that seemed to be contagious and common here. It was routine, they told us, to check the prisoners' health so that the spread of disease could be prevented. Apparently we were both in good health („But you need to drink less, Mr Haddock, your face speaks volumes about your addiction to alcohol").

I felt a little anxious about living together with Haddock. In our friendship, I had always been the stronger, more mature one; and since the incident with Sponsz, Haddock might suspect that I was somehow „broken". Worse yet, the event might have shattered his own spirit in some way. I had always been strong for the Captain, and now I would have to be even more so. I must not fail him.

Indeed he initially treated me as if I was contagious, being careful not to touch me in the slightest. And he was acting towards me like a mother-hen around her chick. Would I like some of his food? Was I not freezing under that thin blanket? Would I like to wear his jersey? Was I truly not hungry? I knew he meant to be supportive but it quickly got annoying. When he offered me his blanket for the eighth time, I shouted „Stop treating me like a goddamn porcelain doll! I'm handling it just fine, I've already gotten over it! Can't you act _normal_?"

He stared at me, unsure what to say. Again he found no words.

I put one hand over my eyes. „Damn it, I'm sorry, Captain. Didn't mean to shout at you, I apologize."

„No, no, it's alright. But, look, Tintin! I can see you're_ not_ fine. Two days ago you had a nightmare, crying in your sleep. And you're barely eating anything. No, I don't think you can handle it. You're suffering. Okay, I admit it, I have no idea what to do! But at least you should eat more. You can't treat your body like that, it's almost like you're punishing yourself!"

„Nonsense", I retorted. „I'm just not very hungry, and my stomach is often upset lately. I eat just enough-"

„Yesterday you almost fainted! I had to catch you!"

„_I'm __fine, __Captain_!"

„Blistering barnacles, you're harming yourself", he said. But then he stayed silent. He'd been familiar with my obstinacy for years; he knew he couldn't talk me out of anything.

.

Colonel Alvarez

Tapiocapolis, San Theodoros, February 26, 1974

I was terrified.

Absolutely terrified. My superior, the Police Chief, was committing treason. The evidence was overwhelming. I had to act fast. Tapioca and his staff needed to see all the evidence before Sponsz had the slightest chance to suspect what I was doing behind his back.

I'd never thought of Colonel Sponsz as someone likable, but as his inferior I had never questioned his motives. Even though he was a foreigner, I'd always obeyed. But when I had learnt what kind of person he was, I had felt repulsed by him. The way he'd looked at Tintin through the surveillance cameras, his lewd comments and suggestions – it was all very disgusting. If he'd only stopped there! But he proceeded to abuse Tintin in unspeakable ways. It was so thoroughly repulsive that I actually felt sorry for this poor Tintin. No one deserved this treatment, not even an actual traitor would have deserved it.

From now on, however, Sponsz wouldn't dare touch Tintin again. I had made sure of that by bribing the doctor who routinely examined the prisoners. The doctor would wrongly diagnose Tintin with syphilis, and the diagnosis would feature prominently on his health report which Sponsz would get to see. That should take careof it!

.

Tintin

_Prisión __del __Estado_, San Theodoros, March 30, 1974

We now had been in San Theodoros for one and a half months, most of that time in prison. I had told the Captain everything I knew, even about Alvarez' attempts to collect evidence against Sponsz. Quietly of course, since we couldn't be sure that our prison cell was bug-free. We were full of hope.

To my amazement, Sponsz hadn't come here anymore, just as Alvarez had promised. I wondered how Alvarez had managed that.

Captain Haddock wasn't mothering me so much anymore. Sometimes everything felt like normal, everyday routine as if we were home at Marlinspike Hall, or as if the Sponsz Incident (that's how we called it – Haddock didn't need to know that Sponsz had actually raped me _twice_) had never occured.

I was recovering. Not eating much had turned out to be a great weapon against my irrational mind; it made me feel strong, secure and in control. Exactly what I needed. I only ate whatever was necessary, whenever the Captain asked me to, just to appease his unfounded worries. Physically, I felt perfectly fine, apart from the occasional dizziness, but that was a small price to pay to regain my self-determination and mental strength.

„Captain", I said, „why don't you give me a big hug right now? You seem to think I'm traumatized or something like that, but I'm fine. Come on, hug me like you used to, like a big brother. You'll see, I'm no fragile china doll. I haven't changed at all."

„Well, if you say so." He seemed unconvinced but embraced me, a little awkwardly. My irrational mind was scared, screaming A_lert! __Action__ stations!_ when I felt the large, masculine hands on my back; and my entire body went tense. But as I had predicted, my rational mind was stronger this time, and soon I relaxed and managed to enjoy it, hugging him back, inhaling the familiar scent of tobacco and sweat.

When we separated he said „I don't know, Tintin, you seem really fragile. More so than usual."

I groaned. „Don't start with that again! Don't you remember when the doctor examined us? He said I was perfectly healthy!"

„That was one month ago!"

Suddenly we heard footsteps, and our door opened. Colonel Alvarez stood there. „Good afternoon, Mr Tintin and Mr Haddock. Our President, General Tapioca, wishes to talk to you."


	8. Chapter 8

Colonel Sponsz

Tapiocapolis, San Theodoros, April 3, 1974

They came in the morning.

Suspecting nothing I'd just gotten out of bed at 6:30 as always when I heard thundering footsteps downstairs.

Before I could react to what seemed to be a terrorist or guerrilla attack, they kicked in my bedroom door. At once I was surrounded by at least two dozen armed San Theodosian policemen. I must have looked funny, standing there in my pyjamas, speechless and confounded. Colonel Alvarez stepped forward, telling me that I was arrested for treason.

.

Captain Haddock

Marlinspike Hall, Brussels, April 8, 1974

Ten thousand thundering typhoons! Tintin had done it again – he'd saved our lives against all odds. Well, he had had help. A major portion of our success had to be attributed to Colonel Alvarez. As it seemed, he'd gotten into a loyalty dilemma and had decided not to cooperate with Sponsz anymore. He had collected evidence of Sponsz' treason and presented it to General Tapioca.

Even to him, Alvarez had admitted that we and Bianca Castafiore had been framed; that it had been Sponsz' plan, and that he had had no choice but to play along. I wondered whether General Tapioca would let Alvarez get away with this.

After much questioning and note-taking by Tapioca and his staff, the President himself had decided that we were not traitors, and to be released at once. Bianca Castafiore and the Thompsons subsequently were free as well. I'd been so overjoyed at the verdict that I had hugged Tintin right there in the defendant seat in front of the whole assembly.

Of course we were still worried about Professor Calculus who was being held in Borduria. The media had gotten wind of the story, and we heard reports and theories of the events all over the papers and TV. Various human rights and peace organisations, even governments, were demanding that Calculus be released. One major power even threatened Borduria with an embargo if they didn't let Calculus go immediately. But the Bordurian government under Marshal Kûrvi-Tasch was stubborn. They kept insisting that Calculus had come here out of his own free will, and that he wasn't building any sinister devices of devastation; on the contrary, he was doing research for purely scientific purposes.

On a more positive note, that son of a Nazi toad (may he rot in hell!) Sponsz was now in jail, awaiting trial. As if a trial was necessary! In San Theodoros, all traitors faced execution by a firing squad. I hoped they'd thrown him into a D cell, whatever that might be. Tintin and I had taken a flight back home just two days after our release.

My poor Tintin! I could hardly bear the memory of what Sponsz had done to him. Being forced to watch the most important person in my life being violated in this brutal way had been awful enough, but how more horrible must it have been for him! Really, it must feel more unbearable for him than I could possibly imagine. And I had already felt humiliated and weak because I couldn't help him. There was nothing I could do. Since then I'd been filled with simmering, useless anger at that low-life ex-Colonel Sponsz.

And obviously Tintin wasn't handling the incident as well as he claimed. He insisted that he was fine, but he clearly wasn't. He sometimes had nightmares, and didn't eat properly. I wondered if he was getting too scrawny, but he took care to always cover up and constantly wore long-sleeved jumpers with at least two undershirts, as if he didn't want me to notice his weight loss. What could I do for my dear Tintin? Sure, I was always there for him, trying to be supportive, but seeing him suffering I felt helpless and incompetent.

He seemed happy on this sunny day in early April, finally having gotten a commission to write about something else than San Theodosian jails. „Captain, it's so wonderful, I can't wait to start writing again. I'm off to my room; need to dust my typewriter!"

I couldn't help but notice how gaunt his face was. Not as round and cute as it had once been.

„That's great! While you're working, how about a big cup of hot chocolate?" I said. If that was all I could do for him, I would gladly do it. „I'll fix it for you."

„Ah, that's so sweet of you, Captain, but I've already had breakfast. No, thank you." He smiled.

He hadn't had any real breakfast, just a cup of coffee. That wasn't normal, was it? „Please", I insisted, „Just let me get you that cup of chocolate. I promise you'll like it. Do it for _me_, would you?"

That usually did the trick, and it worked this time, too. „Okay", he said. „But use water, no milk."

„What? That won't work. The cocoa needs milk!"

„Well, then just a tiny splash of milk!"

I nodded and went into the kitchen. I was no chef – usually Nestor would have done this, but in this case, I wanted to be the one doing this for Tintin.

However, I didn't use water as he had requested. I poured almost half a liter of 3,8% whole milk into the saucepan and when it was warm, I broke an entire 100-gram-bar of Dolfin chocolate into small squares, stirring to dissolve them in the hot milk. It would be a very rich, delicious bowl of hot chocolate that Tintin couldn't possibly resist. Heaven knew how badly he needed the nourishment right now. That lad didn't even notice how skinny he had become! How was that possible, in the name of one billion blue blistering barnacles?

Indeed, it was a luscious-looking, huge bowl of hot chocolate. Just for good measure, I added a splash of whisky and tasted it. It was divinely delicious; the only way I would ever drink hot chocolate. Tintin would love it!

He smiled when I brought him the bowl. „Thank you, Captain." He took a sip, and suddenly looked serious.

„What the hell did you put in there?"

„Just... um... water", I lied. „Tiny bit of cocoa. A splash of milk and whisky."

But he was already running into the kitchen. Next to the stove with the empty saucepan there was the wrapper of the chocolate bar which he picked up. „Great snakes! Don't tell me you put the _entire_ thing in there!"

„Well..." Lying was useless. He'd caught me red-handed.

„You put a whole 100-gram-bar of chocolate into my drink! Captain, _what__ the __fuck_?"

What the hell he was getting so upset about? Had he intended to save the chocolate bar for later? „That's why they call it hot chocolate!" I said defensively, throwing my hands into the air. „What's the matter with you? Thundering typhoons! I thought you _loved_ hot chocolate!"

„Well, I don't want it. You can have it." He went back to his room.

.

Tintin

Marlinspike Hall, Brussels, Summer 1974

Finally Borduria had agreed to release Professor Calculus from captivity. Maybe they had finally realized that without the blueprints for the machine he couldn't give them results; but in the end it seemed that they simply could not afford to keep him there any longer – too much international pressure. Belgium had even paid a small sum – a ransom! - for Calculus.

Three months had passed since we'd arrived back home from San Theodosian captivity. Sometimes it was like _The Incident_ hadn't happened, as if it was only a bad dream. But I was still reminded too often that it hadn't been a dream. My irrational mind was still torturing me – great snakes, why? Had I not been strong enough? Wasn't I doing all I possibly could in order to get over it?

Seeing in the mirror how thin I'd become scared me a little. Surely it couldn't be healthy. But it was a triumph: it showed my success, my determination, my independence. It reassured me that everything was just as before _The Incident_: I was still strong and in control. So exhilarating was this feeling of triumph that I suddenly could not imagine going back to my previous eating habits. No, I was going to keep up this ascetic way of life, I would savour the triumph forever. How could it possibly be more harmful than drinking and smoking, which the Captain still did all the time?

Recently the Captain had gotten upset when he'd caught me in my bedroom without a shirt. „Blistering barnacles" he had shouted, „you look like you just escaped from a Nazi concentration camp! Tintin, I don't get it! Why don't you eat any more? You're holy enough already, you don't have to be a goddamn Saint John in the desert! It isn't healthy!"

I sighed. It became clear to me that he would never understand.

.

Captain Haddock

Marlinspike Hall, Brussels, Winter 1974/1975

Almost one year had passed since _The__ San __Theodoros __Incident_ – that was how we now called it. The more distant the past became, the better I slept, and the more I enjoyed this life of retirement – we spent our days reading, riding and going to the village pub and tennis association (only Tintin played tennis – I just watched). In addition, Tintin still worked as a reporter and when we weren't travelling to another country, he was sitting at his desk, writing at his typewriter.

I wasn't sure if I had changed since that fateful day in February. My drinking and smoking habits had stayed the same. Maybe I cursed a little less – there weren't always words for some situations or feelings that I knew so well now. But I could tell for sure that Tintin had changed. He still put on a happy face and was as agreeable (and stubborn as a mule) as always, but he'd definitely lost his youthful idealism. No longer did he seem to care about social or moral matters in the stories we heard in the news, or in the countries we visited, or in the articles he wrote.

He still had nightmares, and didn't eat properly and had gotten scarily skinny. It was always me who compelled him to eat, and sometimes I got so annoyed at having to mother him that I wanted to grab his collar and shake him, screaming „Stop starving yourself, you stupid cabin boy, that's suicidal!", but I never did that, for fear that he might really intend this. The possibility he'd commit suicide was remote but the idea scared me very much. I was even more scared in those few instances, perhaps every two months, when Tintin had a nervous breakdown, crying for absolutely no apparent reason. He said it was „just memories", but never wanted to talk about it.

Christmas was approaching. It was a cold December day with a permanently gray sky but no rain or snow. I went into Tintin's room where he was writing an article. „Hey, want to go for a walk?"

.

Tintin

Marlinspike Hall, Brussels, Winter 1974/1975

„Want to go for a walk?" the Captain asked me.

As always, the countryside still reminded me of Snowy, with whom I'd always gone walking there, but I was getting over the loss. „Sure", I said. Some fresh air before sunset would do me good, since I'd been sitting indoors all day.

I got up from my chair, and saw everything turn blurry in front of my eyes. Walking towards the Captain I could hear him just fine, and was sure the blurriness would go away in an instant. But it stayed. Yellow and gray dots covered my field of vision, and then there was blackness.

I awoke on my bed, feeling faint. My feet were propped up on my large, rolled-up duvet. Captain Haddock was sitting next to me.

„Did I faint?", I asked, though I knew the answer.

He nodded. „My lad, you're not well. We should go to the doctor today."

The feeling of weakness and helplessness threatened to overwhelm me, and I stayed silent so I wouldn't suddenly start sobbing. I simply nodded. Yes, maybe he was right: I wasn't feeling fine at all. However, I could not imagine what the doctor could possibly do about it. What _anyone_ could possibly do.

.

.

At the doctor's office they had time for us right away. Captain Haddock insisted on going there with me, even wanted to be in the examination room with me. Both I and the doctor were fine with that.

„Well..." The doctor checked my blood pressure, temperature and throat. „Strip", he said then. „You can keep your underpants on. And step onto the scale, please."

Hesistantly, I undressed. The doctor regarded my skin-and-bones figure with an eyebrow raised in concern, but neither he nor Haddock commented on how unhealthy I looked. I stepped onto the scale and read the number. It didn't mean much to me, though, since the last time I'd weighed myself had been when I was a teenager so I didn't know what people usually weighed.

But the doctor seemed shocked. „Goodness gracious", he said. „This is _serious_, Mr Tintin."

„I knew it!" the Captain said, hands raised in a theatrical gesture. „He refuses to eat, he's treating himself badly, I'm telling you!"

The doctor ignored him, looking straight at me. „A young man of your height and build should weigh at the _very __least_ 60 kilograms", he said. „That's the health limit. Below that, it's underweight. Your weight is 44 kilograms. Do you understand how serious this is?"

Indeed! This did not sound like much. I nodded, but did not know what to say.

„We can't exclude the possibility of a wasting disease", the doctor said. „You need to go to a hospital and get tested for various kinds of cancer. Diabetes is also a possibility, as are gastrointestinal disorders."

„Doctor, I'm telling you, he's doing that to himself", the Captain shouted. „Blistering barnacles, the boy doesn't have cancer! He goddamn _refuses __to__ eat_!"

The doctor looked at Haddock, then at me. „Well, is it true? Do you intentionally avoid eating?"

I winced. Better to admit it right now than getting tested for all kinds of strange things at a hospital. „Yes, it's true."

„Mr Tintin, I have no idea why anyone would do that. But please understand this: If you don't eat, you'll keep wasting away. Your body will eventually eat itself, and you'll die of organ failure."

I stayed calm, but my rational mind was shocked. Organ failure? He didn't say that just to scare me, did he?

.

.

Captain Haddock

Marlinspike Hall, Brussels, September 30, 1981

I still couldn't help but keep a watchful eye on what Tintin ate – it was a habit I had acquired over the past six years, although he was now at a normal weight and seemed to eat normally.

My worries about him always loomed in the background. He'd been in the hospital for a while where they asked him a lot of questions and finally gave him a diagnosis. We both were surprised to learn that he had an actual medical condition; something rare with a most strange name. _Anorexia nervosa._

That was, in some way, a relief because it gave my worries something tangible to hold onto, an explanation. The disease appeared to have messed with his mind even worse than with his body so it took him years to heal.

The disease could have different causes but could also be a reaction to trauma, they told us. It was sneaky; it gave the afflicted person an illusion of control through restricting what they ate – just when they needed control the most - and they became practically addicted to that illusion. It'd been a major step for him to realize that he wasn't controlling himself or his eating; but that it was the other way around: the disease was controlling him. Tintin had talked about The San Theodoros Incident more openly with the doctors and psychiatrists than with me; perhaps because he felt they wouldn't judge him. Which was a little disappointing, because I never judged him for what had happened; could he not see that? I wish he'd talk to me too, even if listening was all I could do.

I focused on the good things in life, as always. In the long run I was so glad I'd stayed with Tintin all those years, even if I was useless to him, feeling incompetent and unable to help. He was precious to me, and now he even let me fix cups of hot chocolate for him with any amount of chocolate, milk and whisky I deemed suitable.

I sat at the breakfast table reading the news when a small message in the corner on the World Events page caught my attention, and I showed it to Tintin at once.

„Great snakes", he exclaimed, „Sponsz killed himself?"

Ex-Colonel Sponsz had been jailed in San Theodoros ever since we were released seven years ago. Tapioca's original intent had been to have him executed for treason, but Borduria had intervened: Sponsz was, despite his failure, one of Kûrvi-Tasch's most valuable and loyal men - the Dictator himself had demanded that Sponsz be released at once. Of course Tapioca refused; and the result was a lot of tension, negotiations and accusations between the leaders of the two countries while the international community successfully managed to stay out of the entire drama. In the end, Kûrvi-Tasch had agreed to pay a yearly sum to San Theodoros if they let Sponsz live. It was rumoured for a long time that Borduria still was hoping to get him back, perhaps even planning an undercover operation to free its favourite officer. But no such thing had happened. Sponsz had lived in loneliness in that desolate place until this week – more precisely, until September 27, 1981, when he committed suicide by hanging himself in his prison cell.

It would have been an exaggeration to say that his death finally freed us of The San Theodoros Incident. Only time could do that, and I had no idea how long it would take.

But surely Tintin now had the worst behind him.

.

.

**- THE END -**

.

.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

A 100-gram-bar of chocolate is about 3.5 ounces

60 kilograms = about 132 pounds

44 kilograms = about 96 pounds


End file.
